Die Tat wirkt mächtiger als das Wort
by rinkaku
Summary: "He chooses to lay in Ludwig's bed and Ludwig's bed only; raw and open and as sensitive as he can be for one reason and one reason only— he loves his brother." Germany/Prussia. One-Shot.


**Warnings:** mainly fluff and non-explicit sexual content- although slightly PWP-ish.

**A/N:** fic inspired by plotbunnies at 2:00AM and stressing over school. Decided to try a new writing style, as well as for a new pairing, so I hope it turns out well! Feedback would definitely be appreciated! :D

**Disclaimer:** Hidekaz Himaruya-sensei owns Hetalia and all its characters; I do not.

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><p><strong>[ Do not s p e a k ]<strong>

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><p>Winter winds, tender as a caress but bitter enough as a careen to blow in through opened curtains. The ends billow up slightly, putting up a minor fight against the intruding air, before surrendering to it and allowing it passage.<p>

There is a silverette curled languidly on the strewn bed. He is thoroughly disheveled- of passion, of love and of and of undivided attention -and he shivers at both a kiss from the frosty breezes and the contritely warm German mouth lavishing his parted thighs with loving kisses.

His head is thrown back; back arching and chest heaving with the labored breaths he's forced to give, a low growl inching up and out his throat when the blond above him plants a final kiss at his ankle. The Prussian is undoubtedly in need, and is particularly irritated at his brother for increasing this need but refusing to satiate his burning desires. If anything, that knowing smirk Germany shoots him as he begins another slow descent of kisses along his porcelain calves is further proof he is purposely teasing him, driving him downright _mad—_

And suddenly his brother is fiercely kissing him, tongue, teeth and all, and he can't help but immediately reciprocate it.

He focuses his thoughts on the warm hand that is stroking him so slowly, so tenderly, but so _goddamn_ slowly- and he breaks the kiss when a finger finds its way in him, slick and warm, just how he likes it -and he's moaning deeply into the blond's ear like it's never occurred before.

Flustered ankles hook themselves behind the German's lower back, his shoves against his preening body demonstrating the Prussian's serious urgency and it's frustrating him because _why won't his brother listen to him he's not fragile anymore he can certainly take this—_

And Germany is sliding in, hard and hot and throbbing and that _look_ he's wearing makes Prussia buck down, face twisted in pleasure as well because he wants to feel **more**, he wants his beloved to feel more of **him**, and goddammit he's taking it slow this time.

The Prussian realizes why that is when the blond leans in for a kiss, face flushed a shade of red and pinched in a manner neither have ever seen on the German. He can't help crying out when his brother begins groaning next to his burning-hot ear, their language a sultry flurry of deviances and sublime promises that make him feel light-headed. Gilbert feels his heart flutter at the sincerity of his brother's words, a soft pink staining his cheeks when he feels him smirk against his nape when a particularly loud wail tears free from him.

He's clutching at the bedsheets tightly now, maybe far too tightly, but he doesn't really stop to think about how they're his favorite sheets or how long it's been since he's last slept alone in them because _good fucking Gott, Ludwig shouldn't be able to be this good, it's not fair that he can drive him this crazy, a-and why is it he's always the louder one? As the younger one, he should—_

Prussia comes soon after Germany begins to rub at his neglected arousal knowingly, pearly canines sinking deeply into the thick muscle of the blond's shoulder. The German growls lowly, a small pitch- whine-like -mixed along, and when the Prussian calls his name loudly into the dawn air with that accent he knows will never be learned again, he climaxes, too.

Gilbert is smirking at the end of it, like always, a bite to his lilt that is clearly pure bark by the tell-tale signs of tenderness in his eyes. Ludwig is smiling, a gentle smile that is reserved for his brother and his brother herein solely; the only one who deserves it, who means enough to make him smile as genuinely as he does then.

The silverette knows, far too smugly, that the sex- while definitely a necessary aspect of their dynamics -is really nothing in his list of reasons on why he chooses to stay with his brother like this, loving him and being loved with a mutual understanding of its meaning and intensity.

He chooses to lay in Ludwig's bed and Ludwig's bed _only_ (not Antonio's, not Francis's, nor Arthur's nor Alfred's nor Mattias's or even Ivan's), raw and open and as sensitive as he can be for one reason and one reason only—

He loves his brother, and his brother loves just him, at least like this, and it's all they really need in order to concede that a comfort like this is a luxury only they share for the other and no-one else.

The thought is enough to warm Prussia, who cuddles closer to his German counterpart boldly and fully welcomes the wrapping of his self-ruined sheets and warm arms that only hold him tight, like this, against the biting cold that seeps in through opened windows.

And it's enough for him, and it's enough for Ludwig that his brother doesn't pull away, not once, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

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><p><strong>[ as loud as my h e a r t. ]<strong>


End file.
